


Just As Friends

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: “If you lost your key again, Marcus,” he began, twisting the locks to reveal a little redhead, livid, waiting on his doorstep. “Hey Scully.”





	1. Chapter 1

He pretended it was about chasing away the cold, like mulled wine in Aspen, when he was a kid, on holiday with his parents. But it was not, it was bourbon on rocks and the trees only just started to change colors.  
His buddy Jack was good company; didn’t talk much, listened well and gradually let his mind go blank. That was the best part, because above else, Mulder wanted the images erased from his mind, at least for a while. Phoebe perched on the edge of the desk, with her skirt hiked up and a man on his knees between her thighs.  
“You’re a good man, Jack,” he murmured, looking at the amber colored liquid, “or at least you father was. Can’t say that about mine.”  
There were moments, when Mulder stopped long enough, to look into the depths of his life’s fucked-up-ness, wondering, what went wrong, but tonight, a sharp knock broke the bitter spiral.  
“You expect someone?” He asked the glass and hauled his ass off the floor, zeroing in on the source of the pounding.  
“Coming!” He yelled, letting the booze run a bypass around his patience. “If you lost your key again, Marcus,” he began, twisting the locks to reveal a little redhead, livid, waiting on his doorstep. “Hey Scully.”  
“Mulder,” she pushed past him, going straight for the living room, clearly, not there for him.  
“Marcus’s out,” he said, closing the doors.  
“Where is he,” she demanded, standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, fuming. Someone was about to have as bad a day as he had.  
“From the state you’re in, I think you suspect where.” He sank into the couch, the ice in the tumbler almost gone. “If not know it already.”  
"Don't analyze me, just tell me," she hissed, crossing arms over her chest, classic defensive posture.  
"He's with Phoebe." Mulder sighed and let alcohol wash the words away.  
Quality of tension changed. He looked up to see Scully's shoulders sag, her expression changed from angry to horrified. She knew that Marcus was with someone, but not exactly who that someone was.  
"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I shouldn't barge in like that."  
"It's okay," Mulder smiled and saluted her with his drink, "I'm sorry too."  
"I came to tell him it's over," she said out of the blue, looking around sheepishly, hands hidden in the pockets of her jeans. He wouldn't mind watching Marcus get his ass chewed out, and besides, he always liked her.  
"You can wait if you want." He got up and headed for the kitchen, "have a drink with me."  
"I really shouldn't," she said, but didn't move from her spot.  
Smiling when their eyes met again, he guided her to the couch, gentle hand on the small of her back. "C'mon, take a mental health day."  
"Okay, one drink, but to what?"  
"To our poor romantic choices?" He suggested, placing a tumbler in her hands.  
"Faulty radars."  
"Yes!" He laughed, raising his glass, "to faulty radars."  
They clinked glasses and tossed back their drinks. Scully's face twisted and she coughed, but reached out, silently demanding a refill.  
"That bad?" He asked, pouring, meaning the drink as much as her state of mind.  
"Don't try to shrink me," she warned.  
"Why would I, you're a perfect 8."  
"Four!" She bristled, slapping his shoulder and making him laugh.  
"No, you're an eight," he grinned, seeing her catch on, "trust me on that."  
"You and your faulty radar?" She sipped her drink, slower this time, finally smiling back.  
"Touche." Mulder toasted her again, and added, "you got somewhere to be?" Scully shook her head, watching the bourbon whirl around tumbler.  
"Hang around for a bit," her arched eyebrow looked cute, or maybe it was the drink, "I wouldn't mind some like-minded company."  
Setting down the glass, she shrugged out of her jacket, folding it over the armrest. "This isn't some half-assed attempt at payback, is it?"  
He gave her his most non-threatening smile. "Definitely not." 

"So my brothers are in the army and my sister is somewhere," she made a vague gesture in the air, "California, maybe, and you?"  
"My sister was abducted when I was 12, no word, no note, she just disappeared," he played with his glass, feeling the mood sink as he spoke, "parents got divorced not long after, I lived with my mom on the Vineyard for a while, then moved to DC. Dad wanted me to go to Georgetown, I went my own way." Heavy silence followed. "I'm a mood killer, aren't I."  
He glanced at her, ready to counter anything from ridicule to pity, but not sincere compassion he saw in her features. Their eyes locked for a long moment, until Scully looked away, her turn to look for words at the bottom of a glass.  
"I should stop asking you questions," she said wryly.  
"I don't exactly broadcast these things, you couldn't have known." He nudged her a little. "It's okay, really. You wanna talk something else? I heard that they found six dead cows in a small town, 30 miles west from here, completely drained of blood."  
The idea, however preposterous, earned him a bewildered smile. "How?"  
"Through two small puncture wounds in the jugular." She rolled her eyes, he laughed.  
"A prank." She declared, making herself more comfortable.  
"Right, have you seen a 900-pound Holstein? Not to mention 6 of them? That's a lot of steaks and hamburgers. Oh, and did I mention two human victims?" He left the best part for last, but she refused to be impressed.  
"If not, then what is it?" Scully challenged, finishing her slice of pizza.  
"C'mon Scully," Mulder smirked, pouring the next round, "it's classic vampirism."  
"Please," she mumbled, washing down dinner with coke, "there's like a hundred other things it could be."  
"Well, doctor Scully, and what might those be."  
"First of all..."  
She lunged into a lecture about psychological fixations and genetic afflictions, and Mulder was positive, he never had that much fun in his life. 

Two hours later, he was contemplating her small feet, stretched out and resting next to his on the coffee table.  
"Can we just throw his stuff out the window? So we'd never have to see him again?" Scully mumbled, leaning against his side sleepily.  
"No," he sighed, though quite down with this plan, "he paid for three months upfront."  
His voice came slow, as if finding it's way through haze of alcohol, only to be met with comfortable silence.  
"Anyone ever told you, you got cute feet?" He asked, apropos of nothing, just as her head touched down on his shoulder.  
Ever since she sat down on the couch, he never thought about Phoebe, or Marcus for that matter. Now it was 2am and he couldn't bare to kick her out. So, very gently, freeing himself from her warm weight, he eased her down, resting her head on one of the pillows and draping a blanket over her. Relaxed in sleep, her features became innocent and sweet, cupids's bow above slightly pasted lips, a beauty mark to one side, slightly flushed cheeks from the bottle of bourbon they almost killed.  
He dropped the other pillow on the floor and settled beside her, like a sentinel, in case Marcus came back and got ideas about giving her grief or something. Last thing he remembered, was a gentle snore, coming from somewhere above him. 

The next morning, Mulder woke up stiff, but not freezing. Half of the blanket fell to the floor or rather over him, right with Scully's hand, now lightly rubbing at his chest.  
"Hey," she smiled sleepily, hanging from the edge.  
"Hi," he patted her hand and sat up, pushing the blanket back over her.  
"Why did you sleep on the floor?"  
"So I could watch the show," he chuckled, rubbing his face, "or kick Marcus's ass, or whatever. How are you feeling?"  
"I think the pizza saved me," she sat up, straightening her hair and clothes, "but I wouldn't say no to coffee."  
His eyebrows went up, but the snarky reply died quickly, killed by her small smile. What was a little coffee and straight-forwardness between friends.  
"Milk, sugar?" He asked, getting up.  
"No sugar."  
"Okay, the bathroom is yours." 

Gathering mugs and plates, kitchen smelling of breakfast, they bantered over the last issue of The Lone Gunman.  
"Mulder, the technology doesn't exist." Scully argued, wiping the last of egg with crust from her toast. Mulder grinned.  
"Easy there, you want mine too?"  
"Sorry, it's just so good."  
"Right, just don't let me catch you loving my cooking again, or..."  
"Dana?" Marcus appeared in the doorway, making them both look around. "What are you doing here?"  
"Oh, hi," she smiled, unfazed, but it faded quickly, "wait, what time is it?"  
"Almost 9:30," Mulder said, glancing at the clock behind her.  
"Shit," she jumped, as if burned, scrambling for her things, "I've got a study group in an hour!"  
"Jacket on the chair, shoes by the couch." He offered and she slowed down, long enough to peck him on the cheek.  
"Thanks."  
Leaving Mulder grinning like a kid, she rushed out only to have her way blocked by Marcus. Barefoot, she stood almost a foot shorter, but it didn't stop her from staring him down in that moment. "You and me, we're done." She said coldly and stepped past him.  
The two men stared at each other, waiting for hurricane Scully to pass, and with a yelled, "Later Mulder!" the doors slammed shut. Campus radio filled the heavy silence.  
"So, you're nailing my leftovers now?" Marcus finally spoke, hiding behind false bravado.  
Mulder snorted, and went back to doing dishes. "You're clueless man."  
"Yeah? How?"  
"Scully is no leftovers, she's a whole three course meal, and desert." _And you just made, the greatest mistake of your life._ He thought, hiding a smile as he washed and rinsed the mugs, stacking them in the drier.


	2. Chapter 2

Focused on breathing, stroke after stroke Mulder let the exertion burn the tension in his arms. Rush of water against his sides washed away the long hours with his nose in books and ass in lecture halls. This was his element, closest to home.  
Flags marking the end of the pool flashed in the corner of his eye and he slowed down, seeing the wall and a pair of shapely legs, ankles crossed, finished with tiny feet he thought he knew. He touched the wall and surfaced, grinning.  
"Hi," Scully smiled, sitting on the edge of the pool. She leaned forward a little and he couldn't help but notice, that the black one-piece speedo bathing suit she wore, though very practical, showed off some tantalizing curves.  
"You following me?" He teased, resting his chin on folded arms, breath gradually slowing down.  
She flicked a few drops of water at him in return. "More like great minds think alike type of thing."  
"The girl next door?" He guessed.  
"She's definitely a screamer," Scully sighed, shaking her head, "and I still have some studying to do tonight, so I thought I could kill some time here, while they wear each other out."  
"That's why I rent an apartment," he laughed and pushed away. "Get over here Scully."  
She slipped of the edge and let the water close above her for a second. "And?” She asked, coming up and wiping a few strands out of her face.  
"Race me," he said, taking the next track.  
“Are you sure about this?” She sounded a little smug.  
He disappeared for a second to, and came back shaking off, not wasting any time. “It’ll be fun. Ready?” Scully grinned and nodded.  
“On three, one!” They took their places. “Two.” She reached out, ready to push herself off as hard as she could.  
“Three!”  
Scully pounced, pushing forward into a short dive, reaching and gathering water with one arm, feet fluttering, breath held until the right time to let it out. Breaking surface and falling into a rhythm instantly, it took her a few strokes to realize something wasn't right. She didn’t see him, at all, so she stopped and looked around.  
“Mulder!” His laugh echoed, chasing her whine.  
“I just wanted to give you a little head start!”  
“Yeah? How about you try to catch me first, and we’ll see who needs a head start?”  
She teased, not letting herself be patronized, and promptly disappeared under water.  
Mulder barked out a laugh and followed, meaning it this time. She was wickedly fast. Each long, precise stroke seemed to pull her just out of his reach, budding frustration turning his moves frantic. From the corner of his eye he saw flags marking middle of the pool and pushed harder, giving up on catching and settling for outrunning her. Scully meant business, he had to put real shoulder into it, turning what started as playful teasing into a real race.  
He almost caught up to her, just before the end flags, but she didn't stop. Scully dove in, flipped and pushing herself off the wall, glided straight past him. He saw the marks at the bottom and there was no more time left to think, instinct and training took over and he was on his way back. Steady rhythm from before was replaced by a practiced crawl, no more pulling back, no more games. She swam like a nimble seal, but he was catching up, if only by sheer virtue of being a foot taller and warmed up. His lungs burned with effort to match her, but he didn't give up, not even when he saw the final 5 yards flags, not even when he knew, he lost.  
She was waiting, holding on to the edge of the pool, grinning and panting.  
"So, who needs head start now?" She teased, having earned the right.  
"I'm sorry I doubted you," he teased back, grinning, "where did you learn to swim that well?"  
"Navy brat, remember?"  
"Right." Mulder chuckled and turned around, facing the track. "Again?"  
"On my count this time." She said, readying herself.  
"Ready when you are." 

She won, two out of three, then they did a few rounds of steady backstroke to rest, letting their thoughts float aimlessly.  
Mulder watched the lights reflected of water onto the ceiling, hearing nothing but his own measured breathing, weightless, happy. Even loosing to her felt good, fair. She didn't gloat, she didn't try anything, simply threw herself into the competition, unafraid, ready to give 100 percent. He had a feeling she did that with everything, and the thought made him smile. He glanced to his left and saw pale, slender arms draw graceful arcs above the surface. They passed the final flags and turned around to go back.  
He waited for her at, what he realized, was the deep end of the pool, five and a half feet was nothing for him, but for her it meant treading water to keep breathing.  
Crossing the last few yards in a slow breaststroke, she didn't stop when he reached out for her.  
“Let's take a minute.”  
Her hand on his shoulder, meeting half way, and a second later her arms were around his neck, thighs around his waist. Scully smiled when his arms closed around her, hands gallantly above the waist. Mulder touched bare skin, the back of her suit cut out deep, and his cheeks colored when their eyes met; so much for suave. She kept smiling, though, pulling herself closer, her embrace warm, soft breasts just a layer of fabric away. Her chin landed on his shoulder and he held her close, trying to think friendly thoughts.  
"Thanks,” she sighed into his ear, and let the water take her weight as he kept her from sinking. In that moment, she trusted him.  
"Any time," he said, hugging her lightly and she hugged him back. 

"You can study at my place, if you want," he offered, as the doors closed behind them.  
"No, but thanks," she smiled, hiking the gym bag on her shoulder a little higher, "if they haven't worn each other out by now, the guy would have to be an olympic gold medalist in bed."  
Mulder filed that away to think about later. "Okay, but let me walk you home anyway, it's late."  
"Don't you have your own studying to do?"  
"I'll manage." He smiled and pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, "C'mon, you'll catch a cold."  
"Doctors don't get sick," she said, pushing the hood back, "don't you know that?"  
"Yes, they do," he pulled it up again, chuckling.  
"I can't see you," she whined, trying to fix it.  
"Yeah, I'm brilliant and handsome, such a shame," he scoffed, putting arm around her shoulders, hand resting lightly on the top of her head, to keep her from throwing the hood back. "Stop it, if I can do it, so can you."  
She looked up, and true enough, his face was shadowed by the enormous hood of his navy blue windbreaker.  
"You look like you just got off the deck of a fishing trawler."  
"Arrrgh," Mulder growled making her giggle, and picked a path that lead back to the dorms. "I was going for clandestine meeting in a dark alley, but I'll take it."  
"Sure, Captain."  
Mulder let go and the night became just a little bit colder than it was a second ago.  
15 minutes later they stopped in front of her dorm complex. Somewhere above, through a cracked window, they could hear a girl scream, short staccato yelps of ecstasy and then a piercing cry, someone on another floor cheered, hands clapping. Scully groaned shaking her head in resignation, Mulder chuckled.  
"What are they on?"  
"My offer stands."  
"You don't mind?"  
He nudged her a little, to get moving, "let's get your stuff."  
A dozen different sets of speakers blared behind closed doors, as they walked down the corridor to her place. People coped as they could, by creating noise of their own.  
A girl, tall and slender, wearing jeans and a crop-top that said 'I can't, I'm in med school' went past them, rocking her hips and smiling at Mulder, like she could.  
"It will take just a minute." Scully said, unlocking the door and flicking the lights on.  
The room was small but neat, books stacked, notes only slightly askew in their binders, charts stuck to walls with tape mixed with pictures and polaroids, stemming from a black and white print of Einstein, his tongue stuck out to the wold.  
"I thought you were a med student." He said, trying to understand the connection.  
"I did my undergrad thesis in physics." She said, emptying the gym bag onto the floor and hanging out the wet towel over the back of a chair, before packing thick volumes into it.  
"And you switched to medicine?"  
"Long story," she zipped up the bag and went for the bathroom, the tap started, water splashed.  
The towel slipped to the floor and Mulder went to pick it up, taking a glance at her desk, more books and lecture notes. A framed picture of what had to be younger Scully caught his attention, her arm around a slightly younger boy, one tooth missing from his grin. Behind them, a tall man had his arms around a younger version of himself and a girl, matching them in height, but willowy instead of solid. All red-haired and freckled to varying degrees, smiling to the camera. Her family, father, two brothers and a sister, all five of them happy.  
"Okay, I'm good to go." She said, coming back, drying her hands. He glanced up, feeling guilty of snooping, but she came to his side, pointing to the picture. "That's Bill and Missy, Ahab and my baby brother, Charlie." She smelled like apple pie and just a hint chlorine.  
"Cute," he put the picture back, next to a huge mug filled with highlighter rainbow, "let's go."  
Before she opened her mouth to argue, he took her bag and swung it over his shoulder, leading her out, and just as Scully was locking the doors, the moaning started again.  
"You've got to be kidding me," she sighed, shaking her head.  
"Maybe they're scared of the Russian judge." Mulder grinned, and taking her lightly by the arm, made her walk faster. She looked puzzled for a second, but he winked at her, and as they passed the lovers' room, he pounded one fist on the door.   
"Keep it down, will ya!" He yelled and grabbing her hand, they ran.  
Scully laughed as they stumbled down the stairs. 

They shared the couch, Scully curled up in one end, Mulder stretched out in the other. Silence reigned, broken only by rustle of pages, soft thumps of textbooks against the coffee table and occasional crack of sunflower seed.  
Nursing second mug of black coffee, Scully leaned back on the arm rest, stretching her legs. His hand landed on her crossed ankles, petting them absently, eyes never leaving the paragraph he was reading.  
Sometime past 1 am, she ended up lying down on the seat, sharing the cramped space, with her legs bent at the knee and resting on top of his. The book she was reading a minute ago, lay open on the floor. Mulder took the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the both of them, letting himself rest too, just for a few minutes. The swim had really taken it out of him. Curling up a little he felt her shift, limbs growing heavier with sleep.  
Before closing his eyes, he noticed the diagram she was studying, the human heart with all it’s cross-sections, every part marked and labeled in Latin, and wondered. Which parts held the people she loved, and if there was any room left, for one Fox William Mulder.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sweet dreams are made of this…_  
The crowd moved in waves as music hammered its' way through the house, liquor creating a link, tuning them all to one wavelength. If Mulder cocked his head just right, stroboscope lights encoded the scene into discrete images, mesmerising, when studied one frame at a time. Every now and then, he caught a glance from one of the girls on the dance floor, their smiles haunting in the pale blue light, demonic.  
He didn't mind the noise, screaming three times louder than his thoughts, pushing out the world behind a wall of sound. He sipped his lukewarm beer and watched harpies on the dance floor, smile their ghoulish smiles.  
Marcus left him the moment they went through the door, following some scent that would lead him to getting laid, because of course, him and Phoebe didn't last. Still, to his credit, he didn't try to woo Scully back. Mulder didn't mind being alone, he leaned against the wall, hidden in the shadows until the beer was gone, giving him reason to move on.

Pushing his way through another crowd, one of frat-boys gathered around the keg, a tiny pixie appeared in his way, seemingly out of thin air. He lifted his cup high, careful not to spill the drink.  
"Whoo there," he chuckled, steadying the girl. Her shoulder bumped into his chest, free hand landing on the small of her back, making her turn and look up. "Scully?"  
"Mulder!" She beamed, all wide eyes and red lipstick.  
"What are you doing here?"  
They spoke in unison then laughed. Someone else bumped against Mulder, pushing them aside, so with arm around her waist, he drew her into his side, guiding them few steps away.  
"Marcus insisted!" Trying to speak above the noise, he leaned closer to her ear, catching a whiff of perfume, something sweet but unassuming.  
"I didn't think you do parties!"  
"What?" Noise destroyed purpose of full sentences.  
"You, party, don't add!" She repeated, laughing into his ear, and once their eyes met again, he saw them slightly reddened, catching a trace of something else on her hair. Lifting her chin with one finger, he looked closer and grinned, instant understanding skipping between them.  
"Scully?!"  
She smirked and took the beer out of his hand, taking a sip, not letting go off his waist as she did. She wasn't a fan of warm beer either. Her face twisted in distaste, giving it back quickly.  
The arm around him tightened and she jerked her chin towards a small group a little away. He nodded and she took his hand, pulling him through the drunken mob.  
"Got your drink?" A tall, curly haired, girl smiled at Scully, eyeing Mulder curiously.  
"It's crazy! You might think it's the last keg on earth!" She replied, keeping his hand in hers. "This is Mulder! Mulder, meet Ellen, my roommate."  
"Hi," he smiled at the girl, who nodded back. Her smiling eyes saying, that she knew exactly who he was.  
"And this is Kevin and Andy."  
One named Kevin smiled, reaching to shake Mulder's hand, as did the other man, only scowling, his grip loose and unpleasant. Mulder grinned, reading the scene in an instant, from Kevin letting go of Ellen's hand, to slump of Andy's shoulders and his ice cold stare. He wasn't sorry, though he had to let go of Scully's hand to unpack this dynamic.  
"Let's get out of here!" Scully said, her fingers finding his again.  
"Outside?" Kevin asked Ellen, who nodded, grabbing her own drink from the counter behind them, then nudged Andy, who shook his head, frowning. Kevin shrugged, "suit yourself."  
Scully didn't notice, already charting a path to the patio door on the other side of the floor. Slight tug sent Mulder's feet moving, staying close enough to make his space hers, as she guided them through the crowd. 

"Let's stay here," Ellen said, sitting on the steps leading to the yard.  
No one bothered to put away the garden furniture, so now all the easy chairs and picnic tables were taken by groups of students hanging out, smoking and drinking, listening to the music that blared from speakers inside.  
Mulder's ears rang a little as he sat next to Scully, who plopped down beside Ellen. Kevin leaned on the railing, surveying the grounds.  
"I can hear my thoughts again," Mulder said, making everyone laugh a little.  
"Now that's a handy superpower," Scully chuckled, pulling her jacket a little tighter around herself. "For a psychologist, I mean."  
"Oh God, no, please."  
"Tonight, I think you'd be safe around here," said Kevin, swaying theatrically before sliding down, to sit at Ellen's feet.  
"The campus jester is here," she joked, catching him and pushing back, before he fell over her completely.  
"Mindless fun is my game," he said, leaning on the banister, unperturbed. "Right Dana?"  
"What?" Scully made a face as if she didn't understand plain English, which they all found hysterical.  
"You study medicine too?" Mulder asked Kevin, who kept playing with his lighter, flicking it open and closed, time and time again.  
"No, I'm the jester, these two are the smart people," he joked, waving at the girls. "Engineering."  
"Which makes him the dumb one," Ellen said, her tone one of exasperation.  
"The ruff-neck," Scully added, as if they rehearsed the argument.  
"I just fix stuff, I don't save lives."  
"But you could fix the stuff, that would let them save lives." Mulder said, siding with the girls, counting himself amongst the technologically handicapped.  
"Well, if you put it this way," Kevin said, pausing in his fidget to look at the flame for a minute.  
"Finally, he agreed with someone!" Ellen laughed, throwing her hands in the air.  
"He's been saying no to everything, all night." Scully explained in a stage whisper then turned to Kevin. "Are we done with the argument clinic?"  
"No we aren't." He said, laughing, flipping the lighter shut again.  
"Yes-we-are!" Scully growled, raising her voice and stressing each word, trying to project authority which was of no use, except for making everyone, including her, laugh.  
"I give up, you're hopeless," she sighed, scooting closer and sneaking one hand under Mulder's arm.  
"You cold?"  
"A little," she admitted, but stopped him, when he tried to shrug out of his jacket. "You mind?"  
He shook his head and she shooed him away with a gesture then sat between his thighs, back against his front. Mulder drew her closer, arms and jacket around her, as if they could share it, if his chin could just rest on her shoulder.  
"Better?" He asked, oblivious to the curious stares.  
"Much better." She smiled, making herself a little more comfortable, business as usual.  
"So, Mulder," Kevin said, producing a very impressive joint out of his jacket pocket, "my doctor friend told me a great way to let go of my anger."  
Mulder chuckled, watching as he lit it and took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs.  
"Which is?" He prompted after a minute.  
"Write letters to people who make me pissed and then burn them," he said, a plume of smoke hanging around them, before he passed the joint to Ellen, "but I have a followup question."  
"Shoot." Mulder said. Scully reached, Ellen obliged.  
"Should I keep the letters?" Kevin asked and they all burst into hysterics.  
Whitney Houston swirled from the house and he hauled himself to his feet, dragging Ellen along.  
"I wanna dance with somebody!!" He intoned, surprisingly on key, twirling her back towards the house, leaving Mulder and Scully alone, with Mary Jane for company.  
"I like him," Mulder said quietly, watching the smoke swirl around Scully's hand.  
"He is the court jester." She giggled, offering the joint between two fingers. Their fingertips brushed, hers cold as usual.  
"Are they together?"  
"I hope so," she said as he took a long drag, keeping the smoke in as long as possible. "Even if he's too good for her."  
"How so?" He had to stifle the cough.  
"He tells you he's the dumb one, but he's first in his class, has a corporate scholarship from some huge company in Silicone Valley, since freshman year. He's pretty brilliant, and funny and easy to be around, if you can handle the occasional gallows humour."  
"So, what's the problem?"  
"She doesn't take him seriously," Scully sighed, nestling deeper into his arms, smile in her voice as she took the cigarette back. "You have to take care of the good ones."  
Mulder's head filled with scent of her apple shampoo and cannabis, mixed with just enough of bitterness of the beer, to keep him grounded in reality, the memory real, not just some fever dream. She was one of the good ones, too.  
"C'mon," she said, after downing the last of beer he offered. "I wanna show you something."  
"Show me what?" He whined, but let go, only to take her outstretched hand.  
"You'll see!" 

They stumbled through a dark park, lights of the house fading behind them as they stayed on the path. Every other lantern was out, and if they weren't drunk or together, neither one would be comfortable with the other being here alone at this hour.  
It was probably one of the last warm nights of this Autumn, and soon winter chills would take over for good. Moon shined bright through a gap in he clouds, keeping the shadows at bay, mere vague shapes, bursting occasional giggles as they passed. This was a night for sweet whispers and promises.  
Mulder held on to her hand, needle to his compass, his captain, him just a drunken sailor.  
Autumn leaves rusted beneath their feet, filling the air with the scent of rot and decay of the best kind, one that brought life in an everlasting circle of seasons come and gone.  
"Any clues?" He laughed, pulling her hand to slow down. She did, sparing him a glance over one shoulder.  
"Just over that shrubbery." And, true to her words, a small playground appeared from the shadows.  
It was run down little setup, no one cared about the sandbox or the merry-go-around. The only thing that seemed vaguely useable, was a set of swings, two seats hanging from chains, rusting but not hazardously so, yet at least. Mulder didn't know when they left campus grounds, and it was his first time in these parts, but Scully went ahead, straight for the swings and sat on one. Pushing back as fas as possible, she let go, letting her weight supply the momentum.  
"C'mon!" She giggled, kicking her legs on the way up. "Mulder!"  
He went to take the other seat, careful not to cross her arc, but sitting down, his knees were almost at his chin. "My legs are too long,"  
"Don't be a baby," she laughed, teasing, swinging higher still.  
"I'm not, that's the problem," he chuckled, but drew the swing back and let go, folding his legs under the seat, as he did a million times before. The ground didn't rush, more like flowed beneath him in a flat arc, his weight giving little, without proper balance.  
Kevin would probably quote laws of physics, explaining why and how it worked, but Mulder knew only that his legs were too long to drag him forward, catching on ground the moment he wanted to shift to gain speed. By then, Scully was swinging high up, back and forth with grace of a circus artist, laughing every time she got to go even a little higher. Rush of air played with her hair, carefully coifed locks turning into a wild and carefree mess.  
Unable to join, he enjoyed watching her fly, maybe not as high as a kite, but definitely free as a bird. She was a sight for sore eyes.  
It didn't take long for her to notice, he didn't join her fun. Using her body to slow down, she steadied the horizon, putting the stars and the tree line back where they belonged.  
Mulder swayed gently, sitting crookedly on the seat and watching her slow and halt.  
"You like this place?" He asked, the moment she stopped, looking up.  
"I come here when I need to cool off," she said, panting slightly, "or when school becomes too much."  
"You really know how to walk on the wild side," he chuckled.  
"Hey, I'm not judging you or your swimming habits." Scully countered, bristling for a second, before she noticed him smile.  
"I did go skinny dipping one summer, one the Vineyard."  
"Just once?"  
"Have you seen Jaws? I'd rather avoid any… extra splash."  
He said the last part, glancing at his pants and she doubled over, laughing, hands gripping the chains.  
"I was fifteen," he kept going, feeding her fit, "I worried about that stuff."  
"Oh dear," she sighed, wiping tears from her face.  
"It was filmed on Martha's Vineyard too, the movie."  
"Yeah?"  
"I used to ride my bike to the Menemsha Bight, to watch the crew."  
"Did you see the shark?"  
"I did, it was huge, Spielberg too."  
"Spielberg was huge?"  
"No, just the shark," he said, but she was laughing again, they both laughed.  
"What year was it?"  
"74," he said, calming a little.  
"After your sister disappeared," Scully said, giggles fading fast.  
"I," swinging back and forth, Mulder avoided her gaze, "it gave me something else to think about that summer. Every kid on the island was excited, and even as unhappy as I was, I couldn't stay away, or rather, it gave a reason to stay away, from home."  
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.  
"Don't be," clearing his throat, he looked up, smiling again, "I met Steven Spielberg, got an autograph and everything."  
"Did you like him?"  
"You kidding? I wanted to be him!"  
Scully laughed, and her voice had the power, to chase his demons away. 

 

"Hey girlfriend," Ellen sat on the edge of her bed with a cup of coffee in hand, "I'm starting to worry about your virtue."  
"My virtue?" Scully brushed hair out of her face and scooted back a little, making room.  
"Yeah, it's good to see you sleeping in your own bed for a change."  
"You're exaggerating," she snorted, "I sleep here all the time."  
"Dana, you sleep at that guy's place more often than I sleep at my boyfriend's."  
"Mulder isn't my boyfriend."  
"No? Then who is he?"  
"He's a friend," Scully said, stretching.  
"You sure he thinks that?"  
"Why?" Scully noticed the cup, a paper cup instead of her usual mug.  
"Because he's waiting outside," Ellen grinned, leaving the cup on the nightstand. "For you."  
She got up, and left. A second later, Mulder peeked into the room.  
"Hey, may I?"  
"Sure, come in." All she had time to do, was sit up and pull the sheet up high, pillow propped against the wall. With his own cup of coffee, he leaned on the wall beside her.  
"What brings you here this early?"  
"Nothing, just thought I'd stop by and say hi."  
"Alright"  
He kind of slipped down, making her giggle when his head landed in her lap. She combed the strands down, watching his eyes fall shut.  
"I have to leave for a while," he said, a little sad.  
"Something happened?"  
"My mom is in the hospital."  
"I'm sorry," she sighed, resting one hand on his chest. "Is it serious?"  
"I don't know, my dad isn't the forthcoming type."  
"You want me to come with you?" The words were out before she realised, what she was saying.  
Mulder glanced at her, surprise melting into something else. He took her hand, kissing knuckles gently.  
"To Martha's Vineyard?" He asked, sitting up, hiding his gaze. "Maybe next time, I'm sure it's just some routine tests."  
"Really?" She would go, it seemed crazy, but she would do it, for him.  
"Yeah," he nodded as if to himself, glancing at her over his shoulder, tender smile back on his face. "But just in case, can I call you? If anything, you know."  
Scooting closer, she linked her arm through his, resting her cheek on his shoulder.  
"Always."

 

He traveled light, nothing but a backpack and a paperback novel, sitting forgotten in his jacket pocket. Uneasy mind and heart were baggage enough.  
Flight through New York, got him to Quonochautaug by early afternoon and heading straight for the hospital, through bored staff, overworked nurses and elderly patients. In a maze of corridors he finally found the right ward, and after a few more questions, the right room. 424.  
So many doors, so many fears, closing his eyes and holding his breath, Mulder pushed the doors open.  
"Fox?" A familiar voice filled with delight calmed him enough to look up.  
"Hi, mom," he sighed, relieved.  
A small woman sat in bed, pen and a book of puzzles in hand. He came closer, leaning over to kiss her cheek.  
"Honey, what are you doing here?"  
"Dad called me this morning."  
"You left school," she clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but it was only a small pause in her smile. "I'm just having some tests done, and so far, the doctor tells me, there is nothing to worry about."  
"What tests?"  
"Oh, you know, they draw blood, check my pressure," she fussed a little with the covers, avoiding his gaze, "I had some headaches lately."  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
"Because I'm fine, sweetheart, this is just a precaution." Looking up, she patted his hand in an end of discussion sort of way, and promptly changed the subject. "So, I haven't heard from you in a while, how is school? Have you made any new friends?"  
"Well, there's this one girl," he began, but stopped himself quickly. Her hopeful gaze forcing him to look away.  
It took a couple of years of alternate heavy silences and arguments between his parents, but they managed to start to move on. Mostly by moving away from each other. Divorce gave them some measure of closure, and they wanted Mulder to move on too, but he couldn't. Wouldn't. And he had a feeling, that it somehow made them resent him, for keeping his wounds open, a constant reminder of what happened. He stood between his parents, feeling guilty of everything, with no one to absolve him. The sole custodian of his sisters' memory.  
At some level, Mulder knew it was irrational. He even suspected, that if Sam was really gone, she too, would want him to move on, to let go and live a life of his own. But being here, felt like being sucked back into the void, suspended in time inside a black hole that was left in her absence.  
Admitting, that he meet someone, to his mother, here, just a few miles from where Samantha was taken, felt like betraying his sister, abandoning his faith.  
Shame gripped Mulder's throat, keeping rest of the words inside his chest, but a confident knock followed by a man walking in, saved them from that awkward silence.  
"Fox," his father said calmly, reaching out a hand in greeting.  
He didn't smile. Bill Mulder didn't smile, not since November 23rd, 1973. 

"You should rest. Fox?" Bill said, with authority reserved for the head of the family, which he wasn't and they weren't. Still, Mulder got up, looking out the window, noticing that the sun went down.  
"Will you stay a while?" His mother asked, hopeful. "At least for the weekend, there's food at home."  
"I will, thanks mom." He tucked her in and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Get some rest, I'll come by tomorrow."  
"Thank you, honey."  
With one last glance, Mulder followed his father out of the room and down the corridor to the elevator.  
"Thank you for coming on such short notice." Bill finally said when the doors closed.  
A couple of snarky replies crossed Mulder's mind, things like 'you could have told me she wasn't dying' or 'I didn't think you cared', but he didn't want to fight.  
"I'm surprised to see you here, I thought you were in D.C."  
"The hospital notified me, I'm still your mother's emergency contact."  
"So there was an emergency."  
"She fainted, dr. Clark called me, when he found out she was admitted."  
"But mom said it's nothing serious," worry slipped through the mask, he always was a terrible liar.  
"So it seems, you can talk to the doctor in the morning."  
"So, you're not staying."  
"No, I'm going back to Washington tonight."  
"Then why even bother coming?" Mulder said under his breath, looking away. Bill didn't reply.  
Numbers blinked slowly on the display above the sliding doors, while the cart moved at a glacial pace, as only hospital elevators had. He always wondered about that as a kid, reasoning that, if there was a place where time was of the essence, it would be the hospital. How many people died in this elevator? Did their ghosts haunt the hospital floors? What if the sounds were their moans and not creaks of lifts and cables. Hospital elevators always gave Mulder the chills.  
The display blinked a numerical L and the doors opened, Bill went ahead without another word or a glance. 

 

No one waited for him at the dock, when he got off the ferry in West Tisbury, though his legs and stomach welcomed the solid ground. Boats made him seasick, almost every time.  
It was a peaceful little town, with all the tourist gone for the season, and not as picturesque after dark, as it would be in the summer.  
He took the familiar road, passing closed restaurants and souvenir shops. Business came and went with the people, and since locals didn't need the flashy and the expensive, only place left open at this time of day and year, was a diner on the end of the street from his mother's house.  
Mulder found a booth in the back, by the window, where he could see the beach through a gap between houses. He left only few of years ago, but already he had the feeling, as if time stood still around here. Maybe it did, nothing changed really, his sister was still gone, his parents were still in a state of reluctant ceasefire, and him, he still wanted to get out of here.  
He didn't hate the vineyard, he just didn't like it very much, for a very long time.  
Unnoticed, a girl appeared by his table, coffee pot in hand.  
"Hi Mulder." She said amicably.  
"Carrie." Mulder smiled at the plump blonde, as she filled his cup. "You're still here too?"  
"This is, still, my parents' place." She smiled back, leaning on the seat across from him. "Where else would I be?"  
"I don't know, Hollywood?" That made her laugh. Everyone knew, she wanted to write for the movies. Mulder took a sip of coffee and she slipped into the seat opposite him.  
"I can work from home, for now." She teased back. "You're visiting your mom?"  
Nodding, he looked out the window again.  
"How's the outside world? Treating you better?"  
"I guess, no one gives me funny looks anymore."  
"A welcome change, I bet."  
"And how's this place, anything changed?"  
"Nothing changes around here, people come and go, but what stays is same old, same old."  
"Does that include burgers you served?"  
"You bet." She smiled.  
Someone passed by the window and waved, Carrie nodded back and got up to fill his order, punching a few keys on the jukebox on her way to the kitchen.  
A bell chimed, door rattled, The Doors trickled from the speakers, Riders On The Storm.  
No place like home.

Wind carried a salty breeze and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. He could probably reach the beach with a good fast ball, if he tried. Standing in the open window of his childhood bedroom, with the receiver tucked between his ear and shoulder, Mulder waited, eating ice cream straight from the tub, the way his mother never allowed. Random noise and clicks and cracks seeped from the other end of the line, music perhaps, then rattle of plastic and a familiar voice.  
"Scully."  
"Hey Scully, it's me."  
"Mulder," she breathed, tone softening instantly. "How's your mom."  
"Fine, apparently this time, it was just some tests."  
"That's good."  
"They're keeping her overnight, so I'll learn more from the doctor tomorrow."  
"Didn't you speak to your father?"  
"I did, still not forthcoming."  
"I'm sensing a pattern here."  
"You should be a detective." He chuckled, digging for chocolate.  
"But it was him, who called you."  
"Yeah, I just didn't think he would actually be here."  
"I thought that…"  
"He still lives in D.C." he said, feeling awkward, "and we haven't actually talked, not since I started school."  
"Two years?"  
"Yeah, and now this." Mulder sighed, feeling as if her concerned gaze was on him and not a thousand miles away.  
"How are you doing?"  
"I'm fine," he said quietly, poking at the ice cream with the spoon, "it's just weird being here again."  
"Where are you staying?"  
"At my mom's place," he said, sitting on the windowsill and looking around the room, "my old bedroom hasn't changed."  
"Wanna tell me about it?"  
"There's not much to tell, bed, some shelves, a desk. I moved out before I was seventeen."  
"Nothing? Really? No books? Trophies?"  
He got up and walked to the bookcase.  
"Well, there are a few baseball trophies, and that one I won with the swim team."  
"I expected that one."  
"Books," he mused, running fingers over the spines, "classics, some trash horror, sci-fi."  
His eyes fell to a framed picture, one of a rare few, with the whole family in frame; Sam clutching at their mother's neck, his father's hand on his shoulder, still not smiling.  
"I don't wanna be like him." He said quietly, picking up the frame.  
"Your father?"  
"Yeah."  
Remembering the picture in Scully's room made his heart clench, her family all smiles, so different from what he knew, for what felt like his entire life.  
"He was so focused on work and pretending, that he moved on, that there was no room left for anything else. All he ever wanted was for everyone to follow his lead, and I never could. Neither could mom, even if for her it was more about surrendering to grief than moving on. I don't think she ever allowed herself to heal."  
"I don't think you are like your father," she said with that new tenderness in her voice. "You care too much."  
"I do?"  
"When I came by your place to break up with Marcus, you took me in. We weren't really friends, but you cared enough to notice my pain and do something about it."  
"I just offered you a drink."  
"You put aside your pain to help me deal with mine, and that's probably the most selfless thing anyone had ever done, for me at least." He didn't say anything, words stuck in his throat. "We all come from somewhere, but as we grow up and make our own choices, mistakes of our parents don't have to be ours. We are free to learn from them, to become something better and," she paused for a second, her voice even lower when she spoke again. "I like the person you're becoming, a lot."  
He stood frozen to the ground while meaning of her words washed over him, pushing everything into background.  
"Mulder? You there?"  
"Yeah, I just," his voice cracked, but came back softer, "I just wish you were here."  
"Maybe next time." She said, warmth of a smile in her voice.  
"I think I'll hold you to that."  
Scully laughed and it made him feel like himself again. Looking up from the photograph, his gaze fell onto a slim volume, a piece of paper sticking out from between pages.  
"When are you coming back?"  
"Tomorrow, if I can, Tuesday if I can't."  
"Okay." She paused, as if interrupted. There was another voice in the background, one he couldn't make out. "Mulder, there's an angry girl staring daggers at me, so I think I should get going."  
"Fine," he sighed, a little theatrically, but mostly because he really didn't want to say goodnight.  
"Call me if you need anything, I'll be here."  
"Thanks."  
"Goodnight Mulder," she said softly.  
"Sweet dreams Scully."  
The connection got cut off, as if someone else disconnected the call, before she could hang up the phone. He imagined her reaction and for a second, felt bad of the one on the receiving end of her wrath.  
Picking up the book that caught his eye, Mulder found the loose page, unfolding it with a smile, as he toed his shoes off before lying down.  
Stretched out on his childhood bed, he opened the dogeared copy of Moby Dick, one he brought along for the trip and began to read. Steven Spielberg's autograph tucked between pages as a souvenir.


End file.
